And Persephone Fell
by Anastasia-G
Summary: Medieval/fantasy AU: when young witch Bonnie Bennett is forced to marry the powerful hybrid prince, Klaus, she has no idea how much her world is about to change. Inspired by the Hades/Persphone story. Warnings: dark content, violence, mild gore.
1. Chapter 1

**Note: this is nowhere near as polished as I would like it, but I wanted to get it done before Klonnie week ends. This is my first Klonnie fic and I'm really fascinated by the dynamics of this ship. I truly wish I had time to explore this story in a multi-chapter fic, but alas. Part 2 will be up in the next couple days. Review if you have a moment, even if it's just a word or two. Enjoy loves xoxox**

* * *

_"The impulse to possess is alive in every heart, and some people choose vast plains, some people choose high mountains, some people choose wide seas, and some people choose husbands; I chose to possess myself. I resembled a tree, a tall tree with long, strong branches; I looked delicate, but any man I held in my arms knew that I was strong. My face was beautiful, I found it so." - Jamaica Kincaid_

* * *

The dream is always the same.

She runs across a rolling plain of grass. Runs against the howling wind. Runs to the figure beckoning on the grey horizon. Runs to her mother.

And her mother turns to face her. And her face is the face of Death.

* * *

She was a daughter of war and sacrifice. Since her foremothers were driven from their homes, forced to seek refuge in desperate places, they had bartered with their powers for their lives and the lives of their children. Such was a Witch's destiny.

___Prince Niklaus wants a trade. _He _will release the Salvatore brothers._

As an orphan, as Princess Elena's closest counsel, Bonnie had buried the dreams of girlhood early. Only nineteen Suns old, she had already witnessed more bloodshed than many hardened soldiers, had brought powerful Vampires screaming to their knees, had looked Death in the eye without flinching.

She expected they would ask her to die.

_It is you. No one else. Bonnie I beg you_

She looked at Elena's tearstained face. Her imploring, helpless eyes. Saw their girlhoods laid out together, pretty as a picture.

_Bonnie, I know you're strong enough._

They demanded her life instead.

* * *

_I am marrying Klaus._

The wedding is a brief, somber affair. There are no songs or loud jests, no dances by torchlight, no flowers cast before the newly-wedded.

She feels like a corpse. No food has passed her lips for almost two days.

How many nights had she lain, consumed with thoughts of outwitting him, nursing an anger so deep it tinged her dreams with blood?

Klaus, the dreaded Hybrid, the silver-tongued villain who was everything she was not. She tries to find Elena's face in the small crowd gathered for the ceremony, but everything is a grey haze, like part of her life is already over.

In the bridal chamber she waits for her new husband. A tray of lavish fruit and bread sits untouched. Her attendants - for as Klaus' wife she would have attendants - had rubbed her with oil, their cold vampire hands making her shudder. A fire roars in the hearth, but her fingertips feel like ice.

She stands when Klaus enters. His face looks the same as always: smooth, masculine, deceptively handsome.

"I must say, love, I didn't expect you to comply," his full lips twitch in a smile as he swaggers over to the table, touching the uneaten fruit, "Although -"

Her skin is glowing, woven jewels shimmer in her dark hair, and soft layers of gauzy gold silk pour over her curves. She has never looked more beautiful.

"- I can't say I'm disappointed."

Bonnie curls her fists, feels the magic heat her skin.

"If you think I'm letting you lay a finger on me- ,"

Hands behind his back, he looks over her body in slow, appreciative scrutiny. A strange thrill slithers down her spine.

"You always were _incandescent _when you're angry."

A blast of magic sends him flying across the table. The tray clatters to the ground. Oranges roll in every direction.

"Why?" she pins him against the tapestried wall, using all her power to maintain a choke-hold on his throat, "Why me?"

His smile is half-demon, half angel, and fully infuriating.

But suddenly she's dizzy, and her extremities feel numb. Bonnie knows she's weak, her body needs sustenance. All the suppressed anger and grief of the last two days crash over her in wave after wave. The room tilts and blurs. She tries to push another bolt of power through her veins but shudders, feels her magic cave in on itself.

Her knees buckle.

Swifter than an eyeblink, Klaus is beside her. Bonnie collapses into his arms like a flower cut from its stem. Words of protest rise to her lips only to die there. She is being lifted, it's like floating, and she can't remember the last time someone carried her, held her, and she wants to laugh at the absurdity of it all except tiredness weighs her down, her muscles are water, and they melt into the plush bed-furs. She thinks he whispers something, just before sleep pulls her under. _It was always you. _But she is far away, and the night melts around her, and the only sound is silence.

* * *

She awakes to rich, mingled odors such as she's never experienced. Bonnie sits up slow and wonders if she's still dreaming. A feast of feasts surrounds her bed, the silver plates and cups dazzling in the sunlight. She climbs out of bed and walks around. There's platters of fruit: grapes, oranges, apples, pomegranates, pears arranged in enticing clusters. Loaves of bread next to pots of fruit jellies and clotted cream and butter, rounds of cheese ranging from sunny yellow to moon-white. Bowls of fresh honeycomb. Even a box of rich brown sweets she recognizes as chocolate from Turkey.

She has never in her life seen this much food and blinks again.

"You're not dreaming, love." Klaus drawls from behind her. She whips around and sees him lounging against the window, wearing a loose doublet over his white shirt.

"Are you insane? I can't eat all this food."

He saunters over to the table close to her and pours himself a goblet of wine, "Then eat two grapes and throw the rest away, it matters not. But you must eat," he sips the wine, a devilish twinkle in his eyes, "I can't have my wife fainting away every night, at least not from hunger."

"Well, so much for my appetite," she quips, but reaches for a pomegranate and slices it open.

The fragrance is dizzying, the seeds spill across her palm like wet rubies, leaving streaks of red. They melt on her tongue, both sharp and sweet. Fill her throat with sunshine. She can't remember the taste of anything else.

She eats the entire fruit without pause, until only a hollow juice-stained shell remains. Licks her fingers. Then her lips. Closes her eyes and savors the lingering sweetness in her mouth. When she opens them, he is beside her.

His thumb traces her cheekbone, wipes a smear of juice from her bottom lip, "I can give you everything," he murmurs, "everything you dream of, and more."

The words take their time winding through her brain. She pushes away his hand, her mouth tingling where his finger grazed it, "What could _you_ possibly give _me_?"

Klaus eyes find hers. Her palm rises with instinct but he covers the small distance between them so fast it ends up pressed into his chest. The kiss is brief, just the softest brush of his mouth on hers, the slightest tug on her lower lip. Stubble grazes her chin. Her fingers curl into his shirt.

"Oh, I can think of a few things," he whispers against her mouth.

Her senses return with a chastising jolt, "Get out."

Klaus smiles with a knowing look in his eye, then he's gone, and she shivers from the sudden chill. Alone again, surrounded by a feast fit for the gods, all but abandoned by the people she's known, Bonnie wants to cry, scream, set fire to all the food and wade through burnt mulch.

She feels like her insides are hollowed out, eaten by an endless host of people.

She wonders if she'll ever stop being hungry.

* * *

For the next few days she doesn't see Klaus. But everyday, one of her handmaidens brings a new gift. A bolt of silk dyed the most beautiful shade of blue. Combs carved from tortoise-shell and set with rare gems. Bottles of fragrant oil. And pomegranates. Always pomegranates. Ripe and sweet and addictive.

She writes to Elena, tells her she is alive and as well as could be, whispers protection spells before dispatching the ravens.

They always return with nothing.

She spends a few days exploring the castle and grounds. Everywhere she goes, she feels Klaus' hybrids watching her, some hostile, some lustful, some condescending, none friendly. So she starts taking long walks by herself. The moors stretch out all around the castle, broken by craggy rock and and circled by a sea of forest. Something about the wild, desolate country calls to her.

Reminds her of Klaus.

There's no word from Elena, or Damon or Stefan. She spends her time strengthening her magic, practicing spells, drawing what power she can from the cold, bleak land. Ignoring the voices in her head that whisper _orphan used pawn betrayed_.

One night she falls asleep on top of the bedcovers. The acres of windblown grass stretch out in her dreams. Her mother stands silhouetted against a grey horizon, so far, so intimately close. She runs and runs. Icy wind numbs her skin. Her teeth chatter. _Mother_.

_Finally_, she thinks.

Her mother's face shines white, a grinning skull. She screams and clouds scud across the sky.

Darkness drips like oil down her throat. Chokes her. Slimes her skin.

_Shh, love. _

The voice, deep and masculine, whispers through the shadows. She turns her head, frantic, searching for the source. _You're safe now._

A slow, welcome warmth begins stealing over soft brushes her cheek, her hair, strokes her back. _Sleep. I'm here. _

She wakes up rested and cozy in the pale dawnlight, covered in several furs and a richly embroidered duvet.

The pillow beside her is still warm.

* * *

"Do you have nightmares often?"

They are eating supper - well, she is eating, he is drinking wine - in the dining hall. Torch and candlelight casts a golden glow over the rich feast before them. Klaus insists on making each meal such a spectacle, even though she has protested this extravagance numerous times. He eyes her across the long table, "Is it the ghost of some vampire that died at your dainty hands? A jilted lover maybe?," her glare only makes him grin, "or is it me?'

Bonnie takes a sip of wine, ignoring his probing question.

But Klaus is not so easily deferred.

"It must be quite the vision, to have you so terrified."

"A nightmare, that is all," she puts her goblet down and stands, "I think I'll leave-,"

His voice stops her before she's halfway across the room, "Don't you ever wonder what happened to your mother?"

The dream was always the same. She ran and ran until her lungs were on fire. Always her mother beckoned on the horizon. Always her mother's face was the face of death.

"I remember her," Klaus drawls, coming to stand behind her so his breath ghosts across the nape of her neck, "Powerful, just like you. Absolutely besotted with virtue, just like you," he places a firm hand on her waist and turns her to face him, "Beautiful," his thumb brushes her mouth, "though perhaps not as breath-taking as you."

As always, when he talks this way, touches her this way, her senses betray her, her heartbeat gathering speed, her lips tingling. She shakes her head, backs away from him, "You know what happened to my mother?"

He watches her with that knowing smile, "Well, one does hear the occasional rumor-" she slams him into the wall, pleased at her replenished magic.

"What. happened. to. her?" she enunciates each word like a weapon.

Klaus only laughs, "Oh love, it isn't me you should be asking."

She releases him.

"Heard from your precious Elena lately?"

He's immediately re-pinned.

"What?"

"Go on, send her another raven. Maybe this time she will condescend to reply," a hard glitter in his eyes, "She might even thank you if Stefan takes his cock out of her long enoug-"

Bonnie slams him forward against the table, upsetting several candles. But it is a half-hearted attempt. She can't even bring herself to focus the vicious fullness of her power on him.

"You are vile and loathsome and disgusting," she says quietly, "No wonder your father wanted you dead."

As soon as the words leave her mouth she wonders if she's gone too far. His face becomes a mask of stone, and a darkness so deep gathers in his eyes she has to look away, before it consumes her.

He is gone in a heartbeat, before his words have finished echoing in her ear. _Sweet dreams, love._

She returns to her chamber and crawls into bed.

Cries until the tears empty her inside out.

* * *

Klaus does not return for two weeks.

The castle looms around her, full of shadows and lonely as she is. It is too cold now for her walks to be enjoyable but she takes them anyway. Already the trees are bare, braced for the bitterness of winter. The sun is a ghost of itself.

His gifts keep coming, though he is absent. A silver jewelry box with mermaids carved into the lid. Embroidered shifts of lace and linen so fine they make her blush. Bound manuscripts full of stories and shiny engravings that dazzle her eyes. Pearls. Furs fit for a queen.

_Everything you dream of and more._

Her ravens to Elena go unanswered, and as the weeks crawl by worry sets in. She pictures scenario after scenario of her friends' homes burnt to the ground, Elena stolen for some horrible blood sacrifice, Karoline lying in her own blood. She feels guilty about the luxury that surrounds her, even while she savors the lush furs on her bed, the taste of pomegranates every morning, the feel of soft silk against her flesh.

One night she orders a hot bath, and sitting in the perfumed water she remembers the cold washbasin that was her only resort when she lived with Elena. It had never occurred to her to ask for more.

Bonnie soaks her hair then combs it with oil before wrapping it in a thick rag. Dry and warm, she puts on one of her heavy fur-lined robes and decides to check the raven tower once more.

The bird she had dispatched two days go lands on her outstretched hand, head cocked, looking almost sympathetic about its lack of a letter.

More worried than ever, she barely notices the fire-light coming from the Hall on her way back to her rooms.

Klaus sits on a pile of furs in front of the roaring fire, the flames silhouetting him.

An unexpected warmth washes over her. Vaguely she wonders if loneliness is wearing away at her sanity.

He doesn't turn, so she approaches the fire. When she sits down beside him he turns his head at last, that self-assured smile creeping over his handsome face. Firelight throws his cheekbones into sharp relief, shadows his full lips, glitters deep in his blue eyes.

"Missed me, love?"

Torn between slapping him and doing other, far less respectable things, Bonnie huffs and tucks her feet beneath her. "Like a werewolf misses wolfsbane."

"Poetic _and_ witty. Your talents continue to astound." he takes a drink from his goblet.

She takes a deep breath, "I'm sorry...for what I said about your father." He looks down into the wine and says nothing. "You were vile to say those things to me but," she bites her lip, "what I said was just as vile."

Klaus is quiet, staring into the flames. She casts about for something else to say but settles for silence, follows his gaze into the dancing, crackling fire. The rag wrapped around her head is cold and damp now, so she pulls it off, shaking loose the dark, wet tresses so the scent of jasmine oil surrounds her. Using her fingers, she combs through the curls, slow and measured, sweeping them off her nape. It's a few moments before she feels his gaze.

Her hand stills on her shoulder. The way he's looking at her makes her throat go dry.

"Klaus-,"

His mouth covered hers, warm and tasting of wine. Swift and strong, one arm encircles her waist, crushes her against him, while his other hand tangles in her wet hair.

Oh, she had lied to herself. Lied about her reasons for sitting next to him. Lied about why she had loosened her hair. Lied about why she really, truly felt guilty: it was this, more than silk sheets and jewels and pomegranates sweet enough for the gods. It was this.

Bonnie wraps an arm around his neck, angles her mouth against his. That's all the urging he needs. In a second she's on her back against the rich furs. His hands tug at her robe while he trails hot, open-mouthed kisses across her throat and collarbone, savouring the taste of her skin, making her shiver and arch her back.

"You did miss me," he breathes against her neck, and she can hear the suppressed laughter in his voice.

She digs magic-seared fingernails into his shoulder in response. Klaus gives a hiss, but his eyes are dark with lust. Swiftly, he pins her wrists on either side of her head. Bonnie wriggles but that only serves to rub her half-bare breasts against his doublet. He smirks. She can feel the magic pooling in her veins, flashing green in her eyes.

"I wanted you the first moment I saw you," he shifts his weight and she can feel him against her thigh.

"When I set you on fire?"

Klaus laughs, licks the delicate shell of her ear, "You were determined, ruthless," his mouth finds the pulse below her jaw, "radiant with power. I couldn't decide whether to snap your lovely neck," his hand brushes her breast, the nipple taut with anticipation, and she bites her lip to keep silent, "or fuck you until you screamed my name."

"Well if you like I can always set you on fire again-"

He cuts her off with another kiss, and this time there's not even the semblance of restraint, just fierce, hungry desire that makes her gasp into his mouth, makes her bite his lower-lip to silence her cry. He growls, tightens his grip on her wrists. Every time she moves, her robe spreads wider and her nipples graze his doublet, the friction setting her breasts aflame, making her writhe against him.

"I can smell you," his voice is rough against her throat, one hand skimming the inside of her thigh. His fingers brush her soft, slick folds and she can barely swallow the moan rising to her lips, "you smell good enough to eat."

She had a sudden image of his face between her bare legs, eyes flashing yellow as his tongue slid her close to maddening ecstasy, just before drinking deep of the artery in her thigh.

She wants him to fuck her, she wants to fuck him, ride him, make him wait on her pleasure. She wants to see her blood on his mouth.

"No, NO," her voice rises, echoing through the room. Wrenching her hand free, she pushes him off and crawls away, gathering her robe in her hands. Firelight and shadow dance off her skin. Klaus rolls back on his haunches, eyes devouring the exposed flesh of her shoulders and legs.

For a moment they stare at each other, breathing hard.

"Klaus, I have to go home."

Bonnie hears her voice from far away, detached from the heated, rebellious pulsing of her body.

She stands with effort on shaky knees. "There must be something wrong or Elena-,"

His hand on her shoulder is like iron, pinning her against the wall before she has a chance to blink. Bonnie presses palms of fire into his chest. Veins cord against the skin of his neck and his jaw tightens in pain, but his grip barely loosens.

"They would eat you alive, love" he hisses in her ear, "every glorious inch of you. And you would hand yourself to them on a gilded platter."

Her searing nails gouge his flesh and he releases her, stumbling back with a growl, clutching his side. A perverse smile twists his mouth.

Bonnie runs before he has a chance to recover. Her breath is erratic, her heart pounding a drum in her ears. She hears a crash behind her. Wood splintering, a sound not-quite-human, the echo of something like anger and despair that twists in her heart.

The shadowy hallways seem to stretch and recede in mockery of her senses as though she's treading the landscape of a nightmare.

Klaus does not follow her.

Not when she finally reaches her chambers, dressing through a haze, stuffing fruits into a saddlebag.

Not when she grabs a torch from the wall-scone and navigates through the maze of passages.

Not when she finds the stables and mounts her horse.

Not when she gallops off into the shadowy moors.

Not even when her eyes turn away from the horizon to throw one last glance at the lone castle receding into a starless night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Note: Ok so I lied! There's going to be 3 parts :) I was going to tack on the ending in Part 2 but I felt this deserved its own section. Also, in this AU, Katherine is Elena's mother. And THANK YOU to everyone who left reviews, I was surprised by how many there were, and each one warmed my heart.**

* * *

_"'no'  
might make them angry  
but  
it will make you free."_

_- Nayyirah Waheed_

* * *

The dream was always the same.

She ran across a sea of grass. Her mother stood against a windless sky. Her mother's face was the face of Death.

It was her fifth night back in the Petrova castle. Her small, spare room had once felt like a second skin, now she itched within its confines. Already she missed the delight of voluptuous bed furs and the luxury of hot, perfumed baths. She missed the sweetness of pomegranates (having only snatched two in her haste to leave the castle, one of which was already consumed while the other she hoarded like a precious jewel).

There were other things she missed, but they were not easily named. Her tongue faltered and language refused to give them shape. Only her body could speak them, could throb with longing that haunted her dreams, could burn inside out with a hollow ache that threatened madness.

She missed him. The gods would curse and spit on her, but she missed him.

How could her life have turned in on itself in the span of a few weeks?

Her old friends spoke in ghost voices, looked at her with ghost eyes. Even their gestures - Elena's brief hug the night she returned windswept and riding a half-dead horse, Stefan's pitying glances, Karoline's sugary words - felt ghostly. They were not real. She was not real.

She thought of Klaus, alone in his luxurious castle.

_They would eat you alive. _

Only Damon, of all people, looked at her like he saw her. Like he knew something the others didn't.

"Why are you here, Bonnie?" he asks one night, after the others had gone to bed, Elena giving her an apologetic look before following Stefan.

_I thought Elena needed help. I thought something horrible had happened. I thought it was my duty._

None of the answers held any water. Elena was perfectly fine, happy even. The castle was intact, the small kingdom was not aflame with invaders.

"I needed to know."

Damon waits for her to continue. Instead she puts down her glass and pushes back her chair. It was so clear now. Yes, she needed to know.

"Know what?" he shouts after her.

But Bonnie is already halfway down the torchlit hall.

If ghosts were her due, she would wrest from ghosts the only thing they knew. The only thing that gave them a semblance of life.

Memory.

* * *

In all her dreams, her mother is Death.

_Where did you go why did you go_

There's always the terrible, burning hope in her heart, fuelling her feet as they speed over waves of grass.

_Mama wait Mama stay_

Hope flares brightest in that moment when she reaches for her mother, when she's finally close enough to reach out and touch her shoulder.

That moment before the face that turns to meet her, her mother's face, is the face of Death. An eyeless skull.

And that's when the horror always takes her from within, a chasm yawning inside her, a long soundless throat hungry to swallow her, bone by bone.

_Where did you go why did you go._

This time, Bonnie holds still. This time, she stares into the empty eye-sockets. This time, she swallows the darkness whole. The sockets grow wider like twin pools of black water, consuming all light.

Shapes appear through the shadows, then voices, then faces.

They turn, the shadows shift, and it's her mother, Abigail Bennett, standing with Elena's mother Katherine, last Queen of the Petrova clan and a male vampire in court dress.

An argument is ongoing. Her mother is making conciliatory gestures, her body a protective barrier between Katherine and the increasingly aggressive male vampire.

For a moment, things seem to calm words 'Elena' and 'safe' are discernible. Abigail nods, holds out a ring for the vampire. Katherine looks relieved. The vampire steps up to Abigail and takes the ring from her hand.

Then he slaps her hard across the face.

It is a gesture of pure arrogance. A gesture that requires no justification, because power never does. There is a sound like a twig snapping 's no pitched battle, no desperate heroic gesture. There is no grand tragic moment.

He snapped her mother's neck.

She lies across the stone floor at Katherine's feet, her head twisted like a ruined doll. And the grass outside is still green. No clouds gather in the eyes of heaven. The winds do not cease howling. The sun grows no dimmer. Her mother dies. No different than an ant, a spider, a worm.

And she stares at her mother's dead face. And her own eyes look back.

Bonnie tries to scream but her voice is gone, her neck broken. No breath passes through her torn windpipe.

She awakes clawing at her throat, sucking in great gulps of air. Looks down at her hands, touches her face, her breasts, her legs, her thighs. Whole. Flesh. Alive.

Her mother's face was the face of Death.

At last, she understood.

* * *

When Bonnie walks out into the night, the Petrova castle behind her is alive with flags of fire. Fire streams from the windows, smoke wraps the turrets. As she steps off drawbridge, the water in the moat turns to livid flame, ringing the entire castle.

She can hear the screams. Taste fear and confusion in the air. She walks through the night like a scythe. Her mother may have died like a snuffed candle, but she would burn for both of them.

They would remember her name.

* * *

The woods welcome her like silent friends. She steps through tangled shadows beneath tree branches twisted in torturous embrace. Her green cloak drags across wet leaves and earth, her bare feet are coated in mud.

When finally she stops, Bonnie feels a great trembling overtake her. She shakes so violently she has to grasp a tree trunk for support. It feels like her soul is boiling beneath her skin, hungry to shake loose her body and vanish into the night.

She wonders if anyone will find her if she dies this night. If the forest will eat her flesh like she was no more than organic matter.

Would anyone look for her? Would Klaus?

_Klaus._

She looks up at the sky and finds the full moon slipping through clouds. Through the blackness gathering behind her eyes, she stays focused on that lovely silver halo. If she could live one more night, she tells herself she would spend it eating pomegranates, she would consume the illusion of desire, she would take, and take, and take again.

Bonnie crumples to the floor.

* * *

**Note: Part 3 is almost done! Also, I know several of you wanted or expected Elena to be responsible for Abby's death, and I guess in a way she is. But the whole point of how Abby died is this question of responsibility, and power, and the way the lives and bodies of women of color remain dispensable. R&R if you have a moment xoxoxo**


	3. Chapter 3

**Note: I apologize if the pacing is sloppy I just really wanted to finish this before Klonnie week ends. Thank you so much to everyone who left reviews, I'm flattered and humbled by the number of people who've liked and commented on this little fic. This was a joy to write, and while I can't promise anything, I do plan on writing more Klonnie in the future. Thanks again everyone, and please leave a comment if you have time :) xoxoxox**

* * *

_"And if we're strong enough/ Together we can take the world apart, my love." - Garbage_

* * *

She is full of the ocean. Waves rock her, fill her with soothing sonorous songs like she is a conch shell.

Bonnie allows herself to float, becomes salt, foam, air, hollowed out and clean.

She wonders if she's dead, if this is what eternity feels like.

Sometimes she hears her mother's voice. Sees her eyes, green like her own. She knows the voice is speaking to her, but the song of the ocean is too tempting a lullaby.

* * *

The waters are restless, stirring and bubbling, making her twist. Bonnie tries to float but salt water fills her nose and ears and she coughs.

She can hear lightning and thunder, though the sky is hidden. The wind is a lash, whipping waves into a frenzy.

_Where did you_

_Go child_

_Why did you_

_Go child_

She feels like her chest is being sawed in half. A sorrow she can't describe rises in her throat.

_Go. It's time._

A monstrous wave curls above her, higher and higher until it eclipses her entire world. The green glimmering depths are beautiful in their terrifying vastness.

There is no point in screaming. Bonnie closes her eyes.

Lets the ocean take her.

* * *

Her body awakes inch by inch, fingertips tingling, toes curling. It feels like her eyelids are coated in lead. When she pushes them open, her world is flooded with aching color and her head throbs.

"Easy, love," a hand strokes her hair. Bonnie tries again. For a moment, she sees blue and thinks the ocean has reclaimed her. But the blue is cool and calm and resides in _his_ eyes.

Klaus looks down at her, a little smirk on his full lips, "I see a scowl brewing. Must mean you're feeling better."

She tries to sit up on her elbow and fails. Klaus slides an arm beneath her shoulders and eases her back onto the pillows. Pillows. She looks around. Candles cast a soft glimmer over the room. She recognizes the tapestries, the vast bed covered in furs.

"What happened?"

"It seems your _magnificent_ display at the Petrova castle took quite a bit out of you," his hands are tracing slow circles on her back, "It's a good thing I found you before the wolves did."

"Saved from wolves and taken by a werewolf. How very fortunate," she eases up on her shoulder and finds her nose almost brushing his chest. He smells of musk and firewood, a scent that curls into her senses, stirring memories of unrequited kisses. His finger slides beneath her chin, slowly raises her face so their eyes meet.

"You _must_ be feeling better."

She swallows, feeling her heart beat speed up. Almost instantly, she's dizzy. Black spots swim in her gaze and she rubs her forehead, "What's wrong with me?"

Her head lolls against his shoulder as she struggles to stay conscious while he whispers in her ear, "Your body needs to heal," she hears a soft tearing sound, and a sharp coppery scent invades her nostrils. He was offering her his blood.

Some part of her, the part of her that went back, the part of her that wanted to sink beneath the waves, rebels at the thought. She tries to squirm, but his other arm has a firm grip on her waist.

He makes an impatient sound, "Don't be stubborn, love. I have no intention of watching you waste away like some pitiful martyr," he nudges her head forward but she still hesitates. The blood is bubbling up rich and dark against his pale skin. Her empty, burning stomach lurches, even as her eyes are fascinated by the glistening ruby liquid.

It would be nice to feel like herself again. Except she no longer had any idea what that self looked like. Bonnie Bennett, witch and protector, did not drink vampire blood. But Bonnie Bennett, witch and protector, also didn't burn down entire castles filled with people.

The cut on his wrist starts to close, the blood disappearing into the skin. Bonnie curls shaky fingers around his hand and lifts the blood to her mouth.

Hot, metallic flavor swirls over her tongue, tingles down her throat. A warmth coats her lips, spreads to her face and ears and chest until her entire body is buzzing. She presses her mouth harder against the wound and sucks with her teeth. Klaus gives a low groan, fists his other hand in her hair, "That's it, sweetheart."

She sucks until there is nothing left and then licks her lips. A slow pleasure washes through her and she closes her eyes, sighing.

Dreamless sleep covers her.

* * *

The morning is grey and soft with rain. Just like her first night there, she wakes up alone. But unlike that day, no extravagant feast surround her. Instead, a single tray sits piled with the most beautiful pomegranates she has ever seen.

Bonnie smiles and gets off the bed, still light-headed but much stronger. A nearby mirror reflects her slender form. She is thinner, and a bit worse for wear, but the green of her eyes is vivid, her skin glowing from the after effects of Klaus' blood. She blushes, remembering how she had swallowed his blood greedy as a newborn vampire.

She is halfway through her second pomegranate when she notices Klaus standing in the doorway, watching her with a slight tilt to his head.

His eyes drift across her body and she waits for him to stride in, but he lingers by the door, looking at her, drinking her in. She becomes conscious of the soft linen shift flowing over her curves, feeling like a lamb in the wolf's gaze.

Fear and elation flow through her veins and the familiar spark manifests in her fingertips. Her magic rears its head, piqued and ready.

This lamb had claws.

She comes around the table, leans against the wood and rolls her shoulders. His eyes are riveted on her every move. The embroidered neckline of her shift slips off one shoulder and his mouth falls open a tiny bit. Bonnie smirks.

"Invite me in," he says in a low voice.

For a moment she is nonplussed, "This is your castle, you need no invitation."

His smile is all dimples and flashing eyes, demon wearing an angelic face, "Oh love, I was thinking of an entirely different kind of invitation," his gaze devours her bare shoulder, and her skin tingles with the memory of his touch, "though perhaps I need to convince you."

He is beside her in a flash, brushing her cheek with the back of his fingers, "I can be very convincing."

Bonnie arches an eyebrow, masking her racing heart with bravado, "Well then, _prince_ Niklaus, convince me."

The shift in his eyes from languid to wolfish is like a lake darkening before a storm. A gasp falls from her lips when she feels the the wooden table below her rump before she'd even registered his hands on her hips.

Klaus steps between her knees, so her shift rides up on parted thighs. "Close your eyes, love," he murmurs against her neck, kissing her heated skin.

"Klaus -," a mild panic steals over her, "I'm not-."

He kisses her mouth like they have all of eternity just for this. Slow, coaxing, so tender it aches, so tortuous she almost begs for more. Bonnie digs into his shoulders, bites on his mouth, edges herself closer and tighter against him. When he breaks the kiss she gives a small whimper of protest.

"What-"

He is kneeling between her legs, kissing along the inside of her thigh while his eyes watch her. She shivers when his teeth graze her skin. That treacherous image of him drinking from her flashes through her mind. Klaus chuckles against her skin, loops one leg over his shoulder "Later, love. Important things first."

Before she can ask him what he means, or how he read her secret thoughts, his breath ghosts over her core, bringing the sensitive folds of skin to life. _Oh._

He kisses her there as thoroughly, as expertly, and as slowly as he kissed her mouth. Tongue and lips sucking on her wet flesh, flicking the tight bundle of nerves and making her cry out, her knuckles whitening on the table edge. She didn't think it would be so easy, that her body would sing for him this way, that it would sing for anyone like this. Liquid heat melts through her and his tongue works faster, deeper, feasting on her. Bonnie grabs his blond hair and doesn't even mind his low laugh because her senses are spiralling every which way and all she can think is _More _and all she can say is _Yes _and when he slides a finger inside her, matching the rhythm of his tongue just before his thumb caresses the hyper-sensitive nub, sensation builds and splits her light a flash of lightning, making her pitch forward nearly falling off the table if his hands didn't steady her, riding the wave of ecstasy against his mouth, higher and deeper than she ever imagined possible.

He breathes one last kiss upon her soaked and trembling folds before rising. Her dazed eyes catch the relish with which he licks his lips clean, savoring each drop of her. Klaus leans forward, palms resting on either side of her. She can feel him hard against her thigh.

"Am I invited now?"

Bonnie catches her breath, "I will take your request under consideration."

He swears and sweeps her off the table, carrying her over to the bed. She laughs when her back meets the plush furs, pleased to have made him break his own rules.

Klaus lowers himself over her, runs one hand up her side, pulling the linen of her shift up, "Consider it under me, then."

Her shift comes off and she's naked before him. His intense scrutiny makes her blush and avert her eyes. No one ever looked at her like he does.

He takes her chin, forces her to meet his gaze, "Bonnie, Bonnie, Bonnie. Always so demure. You shy away like a maiden when you are a queen," he traces a nipple with his fingertip, watches it harden. Kneeling, he removes his doublet, then the white shirt, revealing a smooth, sculpted chest. His trousers are next, and her eyes rivet on the turgid evidence of his desire. Desire for _her_. The thought sends a rush of hot liquid to her womb and she's wet all over again.

Klaus kisses her all over, sucking on her breasts until she is trembling. From his death grip on her hips she knows his restraint is close to breaking.

He slides a hand under her buttocks and lifts her so his organ is pressed against her entrance.

His chest heaves, "Are you afraid?"

"Are you going to talk all night?" she angles her hips.

She can see the glint of his canines when he grins. He penetrates her in a single, swift stroke and she gives a small cry. It has been so long. Klaus works her slowly, with a maddening, sensual pace. She locks her ankles around his back and runs magic-coated fingernails up his back, knowing they burn.

His head jerks and for a moment he looks surprised. She is about to remove her nails when he kisses her, a sharp, unapologetic kiss that draws blood from her mouth, blood that he licks greedily before whispering, "Do it again, love."

She gives as good as she gets, leaving red trails up his chest that vanish in seconds, making him throw back his head and revel in her burning touch. His fangs are descended and he makes no effort to hide it. Bonnie feels a dangerous thrill, coaxing out the beast, playing with fire.

She arches her neck and pulls him in, "I know you want to."

Before she can think, he slides out of her and flips her on her stomach. Lifting his hips he buries himself inside her again, and the angle makes her groan, riding that exquisite line between pleasure and pain. Wrapping an arm around her middle he pulls her up so she's pressed into his chest. He moves her damp hair aside and she tilts her neck, inviting.

Fangs graze her skin, "You asked for this, love, " then sink into the vein. She cries out and bucks against him. When he sucks it feels like a thousand tendrils of sensation are curling through every vein, every pore. His thrusts are becoming irregular, brutal in their frenzied rhythm. With his other hand he strokes her, building her up to another climax while his mouth sucks at her neck like she's the first and last taste of blood he will ever have.

Her pleasure crashes over her in shuddering waves, and his soon follows. They tumble together onto the bed, his back arched over hers as he gives one final thrust. She is dizzy from the raw sensation and the loss of blood.

Klaus gathers her up, lays her damp body against his and opens a vein for her. Once she has taken what she needs, Bonnie wipes her mouth.

A sudden laugh bursts from her luxurious exhaustion. She feels as though every color is new, painted just for her.

He grasps her hand, licks the inside of her wrist and kisses the pulse, "I have waited for you for so long."

* * *

The next while they are in the bath together, her head pillowed on his chest while he drinks the expensive wine he is so fond of, she tells him of the vampire who killed her mother.

"Find him for me."

* * *

His name is Louis and he's an easy hunt for Klaus' hybrids. They bring him to the castle, snarling and spitting like a rabid dog.

Down in the dungeons she has him chained with spelled irons coated in vervain. Each struggle slices into his skin.

Klaus watches as she brings him to his knees in screaming agony, popping every vessel in his head with slow and exquisite delight.

He caresses her waist, his voice is low, dark with lust "Shall I finish him for you, love?"

"No, death is too merciful," and she whispers her plan.

Palms on either side Louis' head, she whispers the incantation. With each word she pictures her mother's face, standing alive and tall against a sky of fire.

She steps back, watches the spell take effect as the miserable creature tries to snap and bite at the illusionary goblet of blood floating just above his head. The more he strains, the more the chains cut into his flesh, and the hungrier and more desperate he becomes.

Even Klaus looks impressed.

As soon as they are in their chambers, he pushes her up against the wall, fumbling with her gown until finally he rips the silken fabric. Bonnie drinks the pleasure of his body as hungrily as he feasts on her neck. Ecstasy shatters them both.

* * *

Lying in bed one morning, sated and damp from their exertions, he asks her if she plans on confronting her friends, and the Salvatore brothers. She muses on this.

"No, let my shadow hang over them, let them hear my name and fear. Let them always wonder."

"And in the meantime?"

Bonnie already knows. Pushing his shoulders down, she mounts him, begins a slow, undulating ride, "I want to go somewhere, far away. Some place where pomegranates grow on trees."

"Mmm," his hand travels up her torso, squeezes a breast while he lifts his hips into her, "And what then, love?"

She traces a burning line down his chest, watches his eyes darken, "Convince me."

* * *

The dream is always the same.

She searches for her mother in the tangled, burning forest, across the blowing grass.

Her mother's face flickers in the fire.

She raises flames to the sky.


End file.
